Sam fic: "Bad Step" Part 3, rated PG
More Sam crack fic! Torture fans, come and get it!
The Gaffer frowned at Sam’s empty
place at the table. “Where’s that lad? He knows we eat at six.”
Daisy set a hot dish on the loaded
table before seating herself with the others. “He must still be off walking
with Mr. Frodo, Da.”
This was news to Marigold. She sat
up. “Sam went with Mr. Frodo?”
“He did.” Daisy served some potatoes
to the Gaffer. “Left this morning.”
Gaffer’s eyes rounded. “He did what?”
Marigold shared her father’s
astonishment. Sam hadn’t returned for lunch, but then, he often didn’t, when he
was working far afield. But to have set off on a three-day hike without leaving
word seemed very unlike Sam.
“It’s true, Da,” said May. “Daisy
and me saw him plain as plain, a-walkin’ at Mr. Frodo’s side. He had his pack
on his back.”
“That was a sack of tools,”
Marigold corrected. “He meant to repair the trail Mr. Frodo was to take to the
Water.”
“It must have been his hiking pack,”
said May uncertainly. "I remember seeing a sleeping bag."
Marigold was provoked by her
sister’s dullness; surely May never spent more than a minute a day attempting
to use her wits. “Then you saw wrong. I was by when Sam left, and he was carrying
a big sack of tools. He only meant to ask Mr. Frodo if he wanted a companion on
his road. He’d surely have returned if Mr. Frodo had said yes, to collect his hiking
pack if naught else.”
Gaffer frowned. “What’s this about
Sam asking hisself along on a walking party?”
Marigold winced. She hadn’t meant to
blurt Sam’s secret out to the family. “It were a safety concern, Da, that’s
all. Sam had been a-fretting over the trail not being safe after the rains. He
thought, if the paths are unsafe here, they might be dangerous farther afield,
as well.”
“Sam has work to do,” the Gaffer
said strongly. “Mr. Frodo needs to find hisself a gentlehobbit if he requires a
walking companion. ‘T’ain’t fit for a working hobbit to flitter about like
that.”
Marigold only half listened; she was
busy mulling the possibilities. “Likely Sam is still working on repairing that
trail. It’s a big job to do by his lonesome.”
“I told you, he went walking!” Daisy
slammed a spoonful of potatoes onto Marigold’s plate. As the eldest sister, she
didn’t like having her statements contradicted by her younger siblings. “He was
walking at Mr. Frodo’s side-looking mighty pleased with himself, too.”
“That’s true,” interrupted May,
eager to restore peace. “He hollered to get our attention, and when we turned, he
waved at us like anything.” She took a forkful of peas and frowned. “Mayhap
that was his way of letting us know he was leaving.”
“He should have come home and told
us proper,” grumbled the Gaffer. “Who’s going to look after Bag End’s garden
for three days, while he’s away? He ought to have told me about it, at
the least.”
“You’re right, Da.” Marigold kept
her eyes on her plate, to avoid Daisy’s glare. “He ought to and would have come
home if he planned to go. Mightn’t I settle this once and for all?”
The Gaffer dug into his potatoes. “I
won’t have you hiking up that ridge so close to dark.”
“I didn’t mean to. It’s just, Sam
wouldn’t have left without his pack. He told me he had it ready. Mightn’t I see
if it’s in his room? If it is, we’ll know he’s still on the ridge mending
trail.”
The Gaffer nodded tersely. “You may-after
you finish your supper.”
The meal seemed long to Marigold in
her impatience. As soon as she properly could, she excused herself, and hurried
into Sam’s room.
All was tidy, as usual. His few
things hung on their pegs where they always did. But… there was no empty pack
hanging from the end peg. And there was no packed bag waiting on the floor for
Sam to come and fetch it.
She remembered Sam’s words clearly.
He said he had already packed, just in case. Mayhap… Marigold thought back. She
had gone to the pump for more water after she’d pegged out her basket of
washing. If Mr. Frodo had at the last moment invited Sam along-and that would
indeed make him as happy as Daisy and May reported-he needed only run to his
room and fetch his bag. He might have done that without Marigold seeing him; it
would be the work of a moment. Mayhap he’d meant to find the Gaffer, only there
wasn’t time, as Mr. Frodo was setting out. So he trusted to his sisters to get
the message to him.
Marigold was relieved to have the
business sorted. “Well, Sam, it seems you got your wish. Have a lovely three
days-and I’ll work on a way to keep the Gaffer from eating you alive when you do
come home!”
#
Slowly, light seeped from the
opening above his head, until Sam was in total darkness.
Soon, he kept telling himself. They’ll
come look for me soon.
But the minutes stretched long. Sam
shivered on the hard earth; it seemed to suck all the warmth out of his body.
Sam braced himself as best he could on his left side, hugging his injured right
shoulder, searching for the best angle to keep his broken leg from paining him
so very bad.
The crickets became loud in the
meadow; their muffled chirps drifted down to Sam. The air grew steadily colder,
laced with the moisture of night. Sam lay his head against the earth, resigned.
They weren’t coming. For whatever
reason, no one would come look for him tonight. Mayhap the Gaffer wouldn’t let
them come out after dark, thinking it were unsafe. But if Sam didn't come home,
surely they’d look for him in the morning. They must. Marigold would never rest
until she knew his fate; that he could rely on.
Dawn seemed a long way off, but Sam
must steel himself to bear it. There was naught else to be done.
Continued in Part 4
For a complete list of entries, see the Bad Step chapter listing.
The Gaffer frowned at Sam’s empty
place at the table. “Where’s that lad? He knows we eat at six.”
Daisy set a hot dish on the loaded
table before seating herself with the others. “He must still be off walking
with Mr. Frodo, Da.”
This was news to Marigold. She sat
up. “Sam went with Mr. Frodo?”
“He did.” Daisy served some potatoes
to the Gaffer. “Left this morning.”
Gaffer’s eyes rounded. “He did what?”
Marigold shared her father’s
astonishment. Sam hadn’t returned for lunch, but then, he often didn’t, when he
was working far afield. But to have set off on a three-day hike without leaving
word seemed very unlike Sam.
“It’s true, Da,” said May. “Daisy
and me saw him plain as plain, a-walkin’ at Mr. Frodo’s side. He had his pack
on his back.”
“That was a sack of tools,”
Marigold corrected. “He meant to repair the trail Mr. Frodo was to take to the
Water.”
“It must have been his hiking pack,”
said May uncertainly. "I remember seeing a sleeping bag."
Marigold was provoked by her
sister’s dullness; surely May never spent more than a minute a day attempting
to use her wits. “Then you saw wrong. I was by when Sam left, and he was carrying
a big sack of tools. He only meant to ask Mr. Frodo if he wanted a companion on
his road. He’d surely have returned if Mr. Frodo had said yes, to collect his hiking
pack if naught else.”
Gaffer frowned. “What’s this about
Sam asking hisself along on a walking party?”
Marigold winced. She hadn’t meant to
blurt Sam’s secret out to the family. “It were a safety concern, Da, that’s
all. Sam had been a-fretting over the trail not being safe after the rains. He
thought, if the paths are unsafe here, they might be dangerous farther afield,
as well.”
“Sam has work to do,” the Gaffer
said strongly. “Mr. Frodo needs to find hisself a gentlehobbit if he requires a
walking companion. ‘T’ain’t fit for a working hobbit to flitter about like
that.”
Marigold only half listened; she was
busy mulling the possibilities. “Likely Sam is still working on repairing that
trail. It’s a big job to do by his lonesome.”
“I told you, he went walking!” Daisy
slammed a spoonful of potatoes onto Marigold’s plate. As the eldest sister, she
didn’t like having her statements contradicted by her younger siblings. “He was
walking at Mr. Frodo’s side-looking mighty pleased with himself, too.”
“That’s true,” interrupted May,
eager to restore peace. “He hollered to get our attention, and when we turned, he
waved at us like anything.” She took a forkful of peas and frowned. “Mayhap
that was his way of letting us know he was leaving.”
“He should have come home and told
us proper,” grumbled the Gaffer. “Who’s going to look after Bag End’s garden
for three days, while he’s away? He ought to have told me about it, at
the least.”
“You’re right, Da.” Marigold kept
her eyes on her plate, to avoid Daisy’s glare. “He ought to and would have come
home if he planned to go. Mightn’t I settle this once and for all?”
The Gaffer dug into his potatoes. “I
won’t have you hiking up that ridge so close to dark.”
“I didn’t mean to. It’s just, Sam
wouldn’t have left without his pack. He told me he had it ready. Mightn’t I see
if it’s in his room? If it is, we’ll know he’s still on the ridge mending
trail.”
The Gaffer nodded tersely. “You may-after
you finish your supper.”
The meal seemed long to Marigold in
her impatience. As soon as she properly could, she excused herself, and hurried
into Sam’s room.
All was tidy, as usual. His few
things hung on their pegs where they always did. But… there was no empty pack
hanging from the end peg. And there was no packed bag waiting on the floor for
Sam to come and fetch it.
She remembered Sam’s words clearly.
He said he had already packed, just in case. Mayhap… Marigold thought back. She
had gone to the pump for more water after she’d pegged out her basket of
washing. If Mr. Frodo had at the last moment invited Sam along-and that would
indeed make him as happy as Daisy and May reported-he needed only run to his
room and fetch his bag. He might have done that without Marigold seeing him; it
would be the work of a moment. Mayhap he’d meant to find the Gaffer, only there
wasn’t time, as Mr. Frodo was setting out. So he trusted to his sisters to get
the message to him.
Marigold was relieved to have the
business sorted. “Well, Sam, it seems you got your wish. Have a lovely three
days-and I’ll work on a way to keep the Gaffer from eating you alive when you do
come home!”
#
Slowly, light seeped from the
opening above his head, until Sam was in total darkness.
Soon, he kept telling himself. They’ll
come look for me soon.
But the minutes stretched long. Sam
shivered on the hard earth; it seemed to suck all the warmth out of his body.
Sam braced himself as best he could on his left side, hugging his injured right
shoulder, searching for the best angle to keep his broken leg from paining him
so very bad.
The crickets became loud in the
meadow; their muffled chirps drifted down to Sam. The air grew steadily colder,
laced with the moisture of night. Sam lay his head against the earth, resigned.
They weren’t coming. For whatever
reason, no one would come look for him tonight. Mayhap the Gaffer wouldn’t let
them come out after dark, thinking it were unsafe. But if Sam didn't come home,
surely they’d look for him in the morning. They must. Marigold would never rest
until she knew his fate; that he could rely on.
Dawn seemed a long way off, but Sam
must steel himself to bear it. There was naught else to be done.
Continued in Part 4
For a complete list of entries, see the Bad Step chapter listing.